42nd
Street
(1933/Warner Archive Blu-ray)
Picture:
B- Sound: B- Extras: B Film: B-
PLEASE
NOTE:
The 42nd
Street
Blu-ray is now only available from Warner Bros. through their Warner
Archive series and can be ordered from the link below.
As
movies musicals go, Warner Bros. 42nd
Street
(1933) is the Big Bang. It's the film that set the template and
sensibilities for decades of all-singing, all-dancing talkies. It's
the film from which all other cinematic musicals emanate. Before
42nd
Street,
there were crude vaudeville-acts-on-celluloid pictures; after 42nd
Street,
there was bombastic, sexy, meticulously-choreographed extravaganzas
that sent moviegoers home floating on air. And for all that, it
earns its place in the pantheon - not just of cinema, but of American
art and culture.
Problem
is, the film isn't really that good. It's narrative is cliche, the
staging of the numbers is creaky, there actually aren't that many
numbers, and the acting is a step up from summer stock. All of that
is terribly unfair - we're talking about, essentially, a genre
prototype released in early 1933 when talking pictures were
themselves relatively new. But it's impossible to watch 42nd
Street
from the standpoint of a viewer from more than 80 years ago, and
watching it today can be difficult.
Based
on a book by Bradford Ropes, directed by Lloyd Bacon, and
choreographed by Busby Berkley with songs by Al Dubin and Harry
Warren, 42nd
Street
is a kind of live-action New Yorker cartoon about life on Broadway,
from aspiring ingénues (in this case played by Ruby Keeler) to the
actor stuck in the Juvenile role (Dick Powell) that every revue
called for, to the harried director looking for one last glory
(Warner Baxter). The plot, insofar as it matters, is concerned with
the director, Julian Marsh, facing long odds and a difficult star
(Bebe Daniels) as he attempts to mount a new show. Hijinks and high
melodrama ensue in equal measure.
What
really matters, this being a musical, is the numbers. And there are a
few classics: ''You're Getting to Be a Habit With Me,'' ''Shuffle Off
to Buffalo,'' ''Young and Healthy,'' and the titular ''42nd Street.''
The film is only 89 minutes, and the first real number - ''You're
Getting to Be a Habit With Me'' - doesn't appear until about 42
minutes in. (Coincidence? Or a sly bit of editing?) And then the
rest of them don't really manifest until the show within the show
begins, about 71 minutes into the film. That's a lot of time to
muddle through a plot that's neither compelling nor engaging. Making
it tougher is that, while the numbers build to an interesting
crescendo with ''42nd Street,'' we have to sit through some musty
moments first.
But
our reward is Busby Berkley's first true show-stoppers. One is
''Young and Healthy,'' a dizzying display of rotating platforms,
crazy geometry, wild camera angles, and the kind of stage-shattering
choreography and bird's-eye views that would be utterly impossible if
it existed in a real theater (as it's supposed to in the film). At
points it anticipates ''Petting in the Park'' from Gold
Diggers of 1933,
released by Warners two months after 42nd
Street,
and it has been referenced countless times by other films, most
notably in The
Big Lebowski.
The shot of the Dude flying under the skirts of a line of women atop
a bowling alley is taken directly from ''Young and Healthy.'' The
other is the closer, ''42nd Street,'' a weird slice-of-life that's a
bunch of tropes and stereotypes of '30s New York thrown together on a
huge, sprawling set that ends with everyone becoming a skyline. It's
a fun, momentous number that adequately sends you away with a big
grin. But it, too, looks ahead to Gold
Diggers
and its closing ''My Forgotten Man.'' Viewed a certain way, ''42nd
Street'' acts like a dress rehearsal for the later, better number.
Indeed,
it's impossible to watch 42nd
Street
today and not dwell on Gold
Diggers of 1933.
Partly because of the similarities - from the overlapping cast to
the similar choreography; the films even use the same Pekingese dog!
- but mostly because Gold
Diggers
is lightyears ahead of its slightly-older sibling. Where 42nd
Street
and its ''putting on a show'' plot is kind of saccharine despite a
number of pre-Code skin peeks, Gold
Diggers
is more a farcical, transgressive revue with the barest hint of a,
surprise, putting-on-a-show story (which is ultimately just an excuse
to stage numbers). Where 42nd
Street
feels like everyone from the studio to Berkley is working the kinks
out, Gold
Diggers
is a fully formed whole, with massively creative staging and tons of
wit, that also fully embraces the kinky. It's also far more sure of
itself. While the Depression exists as background white noise in
42nd
Street,
it is front and center in Gold
Diggers.
Making a frothy musical meant to distract attention away from the
Depression about that very thing is a gutsy decision, and it shows
how far Warners and Berkley had come in matter of mere months.
In
other words, one is spectacular and classic and fun - and the other
is 42nd
Street.
It's
undeniable that 42nd
Street
is Important. It's the ur-musical. It birthed a genre and
contributed numerous pieces to the Great American Songbook. But time
has not been kind to the film itself. It's hacky, unsure of itself,
and kind of a slog as a moviegoing experience. Still, it is a film
every cineaste must see, at least once, if only to discover where
musicals began.
For
that, look no further than Warner Archive's Blu-ray of 42nd
Street.
While not perfect, it is nevertheless the best presentation the film
has received in a home release. The 1080p 1.33 X 1 black & white
high-definition video is soft and grainy in spots, but otherwise as
crisp as you could hope for in a film that's 83 years old and hasn't
been fully restored. On the audio side, the DTS-HD MA (Master Audio)
2.0 Mono lossless soundtrack is solid. Ultimately, what we hear is
only as good as the elements at Warners’ disposal, and more often
than not it sounds fine. We're not watching Moulin
Rouge
here, so the soundtrack doesn't have to do too much and it succeeds
in that.
Where
the disc really excels, though, is in the extras. There are three
vintage featurettes (''Harry Warren: America's Foremost Composer,''
''Hollywood Newsreel,'' and ''A Trip Through a Hollywood Studio''),
two vintage Warner cartoons (''Shuffle Off to Buffalo'' and ''Young
and Healthy''), and the retrospective featurette ''From Book to
Screen to Stage.'' All of these, I believe, were ported over from an
earlier DVD release. But they add a certain amount of context to
42nd
Street
and its impact on both Hollywood and America at large, which is
always welcome. And in this case, a great surprise since Warner
Archive titles, more often than not, are barebones affairs.
To
order the 42nd
Street Warner
Archive Blu-ray, go to this link for it and many more great
web-exclusive releases at:
http://www.wbshop.com/
-
Dante A. Ciampaglia
